Man On Fire
by Austin Blake
Summary: Angel comes to Willow severely wounded, then takes up a war of bloody reckoning on Wolfram & Hart that will span coast to coast. Allies he thought were dead rejoin to end it once and for all. COMPLETE.


DISCLAIMER: Not mine. But hopefully, I can paint a pretty picture anyway.

DEDICATION: Jeni, who's constant killing off of characters puts me through just enough frustration to allow me to vent and make some magic.(Sorry this isn't the Angel/Spike fic you wanted...) Anthony, who keeps my Spike up to par. Brittany, who's constant supply of Oreos sustains me in my time of need. And Jai, who gives me just enough Angel/Cordelia fluff to get me through the angst.

NOTES: After the series finale of Angel.

**MAN ON FIRE**

There was so much blood. Willow didn't know how he could still be losing any at all. She dipped the now-ruined white washcloth into the basin of water on the nightstand, and wrung it out before drawing the damp fabric across a rather large gash across Angel's ribs. He made no motion to show that it hurt. His eyes just stared up at the ceiling, empty, devoid of emotion or any sign that he was alive at all. Because he wasn't alive inside. Hell, he wasn't technically alive on the outside either. But he was still, still as death...maybe because he knew death was coming for him. Willow rinsed the cloth out again. He'd only said two words to her since he'd come to her doorstep.

"They're dead."

He'd meant everyone he ever cared about in L.A. Spike, Illyria, Gunn, Wesley...everyone who stood by his side was now deceased. But somehow, he'd made it out. Made it to her. And Willow knew his nature. Most likely he was killing himself about the fact that he was still standing, figuratively speaking anyway. But his eyes...Willow had never seen that expression on his face before. But she'd seen it on her own. It was the expression of nothing left to lose. She feared that deep inside of Angel's seemingly fractured mind, he wasn't as still as he let on. She felt something within him was stirring, and turbulently. She was afraid that once she'd healed him, he'd do something stupid, something that would get him killed.

Willow had observed his wounds and figured big things, and many of them, were responsible. She'd set up a spell to hide him from being seen by eyes physical and mystical, at least eyes that wanted to do him harm. But she had an eerie feeling that she was prolonging the inevitable. As she ran the cloth gently over another wound, her thoughts were interrupted by a weak voice.

"Sorry about the sheets."

Willow smiled. "Don't worry about those. Didn't like them anyway. You just concentrate on resting and getting better."

His eyes looked into hers for the first time in hours. "You know what I'm going to do, don't you...?"

Her small hand wrapped around his, and tears started forming in her eyes. "Don't you dare...I don't know what did this, but you can't survive it again. Let me call Buffy...someone...just...we'll find a way to stop it okay? A way that doesn't involve you dying."

His eyes went back to the ceiling at the mention of Buffy's name. "It's Hell, Will. Hell's coming for me. As long as I'm here, you're not safe." He sat up, his eyes cast downward. "No one else will die because of me. It has to end."

Willow looked at him, sort of helplessly. Angel sat up, wincing from the sharp pain across his torso. He lowered his head, silent for a moment. "Tell her I love her."

Her brow furrowed, as if she really didn't catch his meaning. Then, her eyes widened with realization. "You're going...tonight?"

He didn't reply. He merely stood, limping quite feebly towards the doorway of the bedroom. He leaned against the doorframe, eyeing a stack of folded clothes on the couch in the living room. He smiled a little. "Those for me?"

"Yeah..." Willow stood, circling around so she was in front of him. "Angel, you don't stand a chance in your condition."

"Not in a fair fight, no." He walked over to the clothes, utilizing his vampire speed to put them on before she turned around. "But I'm not planning on squaring off with them again. That was my mistake last time." He tossed her the tatters he had been wearing, buttoning up the black dress shirt she'd provided, already wearing the pants and boots. "They want a war..? I'll bring them one."

He put on the black leather duster she'd brought. He shrugged inside of it. A size too big, but no worry. Wasn't like he was posing for GQ anytime soon. He looked over to the front door, his sword leaning against the wall next to the umbrellas. He picked it up, palming it, reaccustoming himself to the weight. He let it hang by his side, glancing towards Willow. "Thanks. For everything. But I knew what I was getting myself into when I did it. I just looked at it wrong before. I get it now."

All Willow could do to stop the tears was keep talking to him, stall, try to keep him there longer. "What are you going to do?"

He looked at her, his deep brown eyes focusing darkly, his voice quiet.

"I'm going to kill them all."

With that, he walked out of the door. A few seconds later, he re-entered, a confused expression on his face. "Um...where are we?"

Willow smiled. "San Diego. Moved here after Sunnydale became a crater. I sent you a letter, remember? That's why you came here."

He thought for a moment, then looked at her again. "Is there a Wolfram and Hart branch in town?"

"Yeah." Her voice became meek, pleading with him. "Angel...don't..."

"I have to get a few things, then I'll take care of some business." He smiled a little, touching her chin with his index finger. "I'll be back before you know it."

He turned and left again, leaving a very worried Willow behind to wait and pray.

-----

His stride was quick and silent, one full of purpose as he entered the SD branch of Wolfram and Hart. He adjusted the large duffel bag he had slung over his shoulder, glancing down at a paper he'd obtained from the internet. On it was a picture of the branch president. He scanned the crowd, seeing him at the front desk. He smirked. "What luck..."

He put the duffel bag on the ground, surveying all the people, the supposed innocent bystanders in all of this. He also saw security guards coming in his direction. "Vampire detectors...gotta love them."

He drew two large automatic rifles from his duster, leveling them with the crowd. He closed his index finger around the trigger. Freshly waxed tile became stained crimson, scuplted marble broke away, Armani suits were made into swiss cheese, and all the while his face was stone. The click click of an empty magazine reached his ears. Out of ammunition, he cast the rifles to the floor. Everybody who was previously in the lobby was dead, save for the president. He was merely wounded. Just like he planned.

Angel picked up the duffel bag and walked over to the president. grinning. "Wasn't expecting the guns, were you? True, it's a less graceful approach, but when you want swift and cold vengeance, hi-tech is the way to go." He knelt beside the bleeding man, staring coldly into his eyes. "You ever seen a man on fire? He'll tear like hell down the street, not caring who gets hurt being pushed out of the way or who gets burned by him. All he cares about is making the pain end, no matter the consequences." He unzipped the duffel bag and removed a rather large block of C4 explosive, the telltale letters emblazoned on the side.

"In thirty seconds, you're going to die. I've placed more of these around the premises, just to make sure this place goes down. I suggest you make some kind of peace with yourself." He stood, walking away from the man.

Blood filling his mouth choked him, but the president managed to speak. "Wait...if you let me live...I'll give you the girl..."

Angel stopped in his tracks, not turning around. "What girl?"

"Cordelia Chase." Upon hearing the name, Angel whipped around. The man continued. "She's alive. We had her moved to our offices in New York for observation. We knew if you thought she was alive, there was no way we'd be able to move her. Now please..."

Angel just turned around, walking away. The man screamed pleas of mercy after him, but Angel exited the building anyway. No sooner had he turned the corner onto the adjacent street, a massive explosion jolted the city, resulting in cars being overturned, windows being shattered, and the SD branch of Wolfram and Hart being leveled to the ground.

-----

Willow sat on her couch, nibbling at her thumbnail, her free hand holding the cordless phone against her ear. She was greeted with an annoying tone, followed by words that didn't help her stress level.

"I'm sorry, your call could not be completed as dialed. Please check the number and dial again."

She sighed, hanging up the phone. "Damn it, Buffy..." The Slayer was off in Rome making with the fun in the company of the Immortal. Willow knew it'd be awkward to call her, for Angel, at least. But there was really no one better to deal with him. However, Buffy was currently unaccessable.

A knock came at her door, and she rose to open it. "Angel..?" She smiled a little, hoping the dark avenger had changed his mind, or...something. She flung open the door. Her smile lessened seeing a souled vampire, but not the one expected.

Spike wiped the blood from his nose away with the sleeve of his duster, various cuts and wounds all over his face and torso as well. He had a particularly nasty one on the left side of his face, which only helped to offset the unruliness of his platinum-blonde hair.

" 'ey, love. Where's the poof?"

-----

Angel walked down the streets, hands in pockets, head lowered. _She's alive..._He hadn't been able to think about anything else, the late president's words echoing in reverse. They wouldn't die away, only pound louder and louder in his mind. He abruptly turned on the sidewalk, moving to a pay phone and dialing Willow's number collect. He gave his name when the automated operator asked for it, and waited.

"Hello? Angel? Are you all right?"

Upon hearing the witch's voice, he nodded to no one in particular. "I'm fine." He paused for a moment, the information sinking in. "Cordelia's alive, Willow. She's in New York. I have to go to her, find her, bring her home before they do something to her."

Before Willow could reply, he continued. "I can't come back. They're probably following me right now. I don't want to lead them to you. Just...be safe. Don't worry about it. One way or another this is going to end."

Willow was about to ask him about the details of his plan, but was met with a click. Angel hung the receiver up, looking down the street. Seeing an eighteen-wheeler coming his way, he stepped back into the shadows. As it passed, he ran forward, leaping up and landing on top of the trailer. He flattened himself against it, holding on tight.

"I'm coming, Cordy..."

-----

Willow gave an exasperated look towards Spike, who was shirtless and bandaging himself around the ribs. He looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "He off to do something reckless and stupid?"

Willow nodded. "Cordelia...he says she's alive. And in New York."

Spike smiled, taping the gauze down and tossing the remaining roll at Willow. He stood, pulling a fresh red T-shirt over his body. He glanced down at Willow, tilting his head to the side a bit. "Don't you reckon I should join him, then? No reason he should get all the glory for rescuing Button."

Willow stood as well, placing an uneasy hand on his shoulder. "Be careful, Spike."

Spike grabbed his duster, slipping it on. "No worries, love. I always look out for Number One. Hell, I might even save Nancy Boy's life..." He smirked. "If I feel like it."

-----

Security guards followed a sharply-dressed man with snow-white hair past the front desk, which bore the logo Wolfram & Hart: New York. The secretary nodded in acknowlegement to the man. "Good evening, Mr. Carlisle."

The man stopped, smiling a little. "How many times have I told you, Mary? Just call me Eric."

The woman blushed a little, and the man continued on his way. An intern walked up to him, holding out a folder. "It seems our office in San Diego was demolished by an outside force, sir."

Eric's brow furrowed. "When?"

"Two days ago, sir."

"And we're just hearing about it now?"

"Well, the explosion knocked out communications for the better part of the day..." He quickly handed the man another folder, this one orange. "These are the results of the tests on the Chase woman, Mr. Carlisle. We've-"

"Eric, Jonathan. My name is Eric. My father was Mr. Carlisle." His eyes narrowed darkly at the young man. "I suggest you don't forget again."

"Sorry, sir." The intern replied, gulping. "Like I was saying, we've effectively broken the mystics responisble for her slumber. No explanation for the unusual brain activity the day we moved her and told the Los Angeles branch of her demise, but the impulses fired in her brain would suggest something consistant with astral projection."

Eric nodded. "She sent a message to her champion, warning him." He smiled. "How quaint."

The intern smiled nervously. "Yes, well, she's quite awake now. She won't eat, which is probably along the lines of her not trusting us. She is, however, quite weak. She ripped her IV out, so now she's getting no nutrition whatsoever." He gulped again. "I know you said not to use force for fear of hurting her, but it seems malnutrition qualifies as harm. Might I suggest, Mr. Carlisle, that these fine gentlemen escort me down to her room and sedate her?"

Eric smiled. "What a novel suggestion.." He looked to the security guards, drawing a pistol from one's hip holster. In one fluid motion, he aimed it at the intern's heart and fired. His body slumped to the ground. Eric reholstered the pistol on the guard, glaring down at the body. "No one questions me, and no one goes against my wishes."

He looked back at the guards. "Clean this up..." He turned to continue walking, when he heard a shriek behind him. He spun around to see what the commotion was. What he saw made his blood run cold, his eyes not believing what they were seeing. "You're dead...'

Angel stood in front of the desk, holding the point of the sword at the secretary's throat. His face was still as granite. "I've been dead for two and a half centuries. You people really do have a problem with communication."

Eric noticed the guards begin to move, and he waved them off. He looked back at Angel, smiling nervously. "What is it that you want?"

Angel feigned consideration. "Hmm...a nice, stable relationship...my own showing in an art gallery...and my own show on the WB." He narrowed his eyes at him. "But since none of that is ever going to happen, I'll just settle for your head on a pike."

Eric laughed, but cut it short due to Angel's look. "I haven't done anything to you...to deserve-"

" 'Deserve' has nothing to do with it." Angel's eyes grew icy upon his adversary. "I want Cordelia Chase, right now. And in return, I'll just kill _you_. No one else. I'm tired of fighting. You go your way, and I'll go mine. No more wars, no more vendettas."

Eric chuckled. "Not much reason for me to agree, but...what if I refuse?"

Angel lifted the automatic rifle that hung at his left side. "Then I kill you anyway, tear this place apart, find her myself, then kill everyone, burn this place to the ground and piss on the ashes." He aimed the weapon right at Carlisle's head. "Think about it. Wolfram and Hart can always get another president. I'm a tortured soul, in a living Hell, so the only thing you can really do is kill me. But that would just be a release. And if you hurt Cordelia, I'll show you Hell...let you in on the agony inside my head. All the horrible things I've done will be afterthoughts next to what I do to you. You really want to sail into those uncharted waters? Be my guest. But don't be surprised when a hurricane hits you at full force. I will bring the war right to the Senior Partners' doorstep, if I have to. All it takes for me to walk away is her. And your blood."

The two men stood, deadlocked in their gazes at one another. Just then, a blue light phased next to Angel. When it reached the pinnacle of it's brightness, there stood Cordelia Chase, nothing but tatters covering her. She slumped against his body. He quickly sheathed his sword in the scabbard on his back, taking Cordelia in his left arm. She looked up at him weakly, smiling a little. "..knew you'd come...for me.."

Angel smiled at Eric. "Looks like the Senior Partners made the decision for you.."

Eric's eyes widened as he realized his fate. "It's just a bribe," he pleaded, "...a peace offering to get you to walk away from being a champion..."

"Wouldn't be the first time I've taken one." With that, Angel pulled the trigger. Half of Eric Carlisle's brain exited through the hole in the back of his head that the bullet provided. As the body fell into a bloody heap on the ground, Angel let the weapon dangle at his side, picking Cordelia up and cradling her in his arms. He walked away, the lobby silent in shock and awe. Before he left, he glanced back at the guards, nodding at Carlisle's body. "Clean that up..."

As he left, he approached the black Hyundai Accent that he knew to be Willow's car. She was inside, ready to drive away. Spike, however, was leaning against the passenger side of the car, smoking a cigarette. "She's all right?"

Angel nodded, placing her in the backseat, carefully laying her down. "She'll be fine...back to normal in time..."

Spike reached into the window of the car, getting a large axe and Angel's other automatic rifle out of the seat. He lifted his head up, surveying his grandsire. "Time to go to work, then?"

"Yeah..." Angel retrieved his duffel bag from the back floorboard, which was unzipped just enough to see the explosive inside. He glanced up at Spike. "Set the other charges?"

"Of course, I bloody set them." Spike took another puff of his cigarette before tossing it down and stamping it out. The smoke billowed out of his mouth. "You took so long getting the princess I could have set the charges _and_ shagged Red in there." He glanced down at her and smiled. "If she was so inclined."

The people inside had just begun to go about their workday again when the vampires entered the building, armed to kill anything that moved. Once inside, Spike reached into his duster, pulled out a pair of shades, and put them on. Angel stared at him. "What are those for?"

Spike grinned. "Effect."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "I hate you."

Spike nodded. "Hate you too, cupcake. Let's dance."

Those words said, the vampires opened fire on the crowd, wreaking the kind of havoc and bloody vengeance they'd only dreamt about since their old days together. Screams pierced the air, bodies fell, lives ended. A thousand for every comrade lost, and it wouldn't be enough for Angel. Three lawyers and a secretary riddled with bullets in an instant: "...for Wesley."

A group of executives cut down while running for their lives: "...for Gunn."

Security guards and a few demon clients trying to escape the hail of gunfire, but to no avail: "...for Fred."

Spike cast his axe into the back of a lawyer trying to sneak past them. "...for me, more or less."

No more bodies left standing, the vampires turned their fire on the windows, desks, anything having to do with the firm. Then the all-too-familiar clicking.

They both let their guns fall, dangling from the straps over their shoulders. "Sometimes, there aren't enough lawyers." Spike grimaced, looking over at Angel. "That hardly seemed worth it. Told ya, we should have brought the mace. It's all with the spikes and the maiming and the tearing flesh...you'd get your yen for torture back using that thing."

Angel set the timer, tossing the duffel bag in the center of the room. He sighed a little, casting a look at his grandchilde. "Thanks. For coming."

"Never miss an opportunity at vengeance, mate...especially a bloody reckoning like this one." Spike turned and began to exit, Angel following suit. "But you know...this isn't over. You welched on a deal with the Senior Partners. They're gonna be pissed."

They both got in the car, Spike riding shotgun, Angel sitting in back with Cordelia's head resting on his lap. He looked into the rearview mirror as Willow sped off, watching the tremendous explosion bring the New York branch crashing to the ground.

"Let them come..." Angel said, looking down at Cordelia. "Let them come."

-----

Two figures materialized in the shadows of an alley close to the devastation. Tall, red-robed forms, one of which extending a slender, hook-clawed hand covered in black scales towards the former site of Wolfram & Hart: New York. A gravelly voice came from deep within the darkness of the shroud it wore.

"This...champion...is becoming troublesome."

The other being nodded, the same garbled voice coming from the blackness of it's own cloak. "He has no idea what awaits him now."

The first being turned to the other, his voice cold, calculating. "He has made a grave error in judgement by doing the last surviving member of the Circle of the Black Thorn."

The other being nodded once more, then both beings shimmered away into nothing.

-----

Willow opened the door of her apartment, allowing Angel entrance first, as he was carrying Cordelia. "Just set her in my bedroom.." Willow said, smiling a little. "I can take the couch."

Angel obliged, heading straight for the witch's room. Spike entered last, taking a few glances at the decor of Willow's habitat. "Nice digs, love. Didn't really notice before, what with the blinding pain in my side and all."

Willow beamed. "Yeah, Xander got me a great deal." She took the cushions off her couch, pulling out the sofa bed that was stored inside. "They just built this place, and they want someone to try it out, make sure everything works. I'm living her for free this month, and if everything goes satisfactory, I'll only have to pay half the rent as the others will...once they move in."

Spike noticed a picture of Tara and Willow on the wall, and his head lowered a bit. "Yeah...? Sounds like the American dream, Red. Fancy that." He looked over at Willow with a smile. "Looks like our favorite Wiccan's moving up in the world."

Willow, however, was glancing toward her bedroom. She looked at Spike, obviously a little worried. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

Spike nodded. "I'm sure Prince Valiant in there has the cure for whatever ails her."

Willow raised her eyebrows a little. "Do you think _we'll_ be okay?"

Spike glanced toward the bedroom himself. "Don't know, bit. I just don't know. Never really seen Angel with such a disregard for human life before." He smirked. "Makes me wanna move him up a notch in my book." He looked back at Willow. "That'll leave him at Notch One."

Meanwhile, Angel was finishing making Cordelia comfortable, bringing the blanket firmly up around her shoulders. He sat on the bed beside her, looking down at her, smiling. He didn't know quite what to say to her. They'd never really got a chance to affirm their love, save for her miraculous recovery, then the kiss they shared that showed him what he needed to do...but that wasn't really real. A part of him felt like the kiss was only so he could see the vision. But the other part of him wanted it to mean so much more. "It's nice to have you back, Cordy."

She feigned disappointment, her hand going to hold his weakly. "That's it? No passionate kiss? No ticker-tape parade? No showering me with gifts to welcome me home?" She smiled to show she was kidding, her other hand floating up to the back of his head, urging it downward. It obliged, their lips meeting softly. Her hand glided down to the side of his face, and the kiss deepened. Then the need for air arose in her. She fought it off for a while, wanting as much contact with her champion as she could get. Absence truly does make the heart grow fonder, and right now, she was very fond of him. Angel must have sensed something, because he pulled away, although reluctantly, and rested his forehead against hers. Cordelia breathed a little heavily, smiling wide. "That'll do."

Angel closed his eyes. "I thought I lost you."

Cordelia kissed his lips again, closing her own eyes. "I know. I never thought I'd get to see you again either." Her eyes opened, studying her champion's face, memorizing it, then searching it. "You have to go to fight." Angel only nodded. Cordelia kissed him again. "Stay with me. However long you can."

Angel's eyes opened, and he smiled a little. "How about forever? Is forever all right with you?"

Cordelia nodded, her hands wrapping around the neckline of his shirt, pulling him down again. He kissed her back, and hard. Pent-up emotion controlled his actions. All the time they'd missed, all the pain they couldn't share, all the happiness they never got to have, all of it poured into their lips. Cordelia felt the urge to breathe again, but fought it off for a few more seconds. It wasn't often lately that she got to kiss the man she loved, and she was going to milk it for all it was worth. She reluctantly pulled away, resting her forehead against his. She wanted something to be said, but part of her didn't want to be the first to say it. Luckily, she wasn't.

Angel couldn't hide the tears forming in his eyes, and a few fell on Cordelia's cheeks. "I love you, Cordy."

Cordelia beamed. "Of course you do." A gentle kiss met his lips. "And I love you too."

Angel kissed her softly, the loving reverie broken by Spike's voice from the living room. "Angel, mate, you might want to come out here for a second..." Angel glanced back, then at Cordy again. Spike's voice came again, this time a little louder. "Angel, you bloody twit! Come here!"

Angel kissed Cordelia one more time before standing and taking his leave. Once he entered the living room, his stride was halted in it's tracks by what he saw. He looked to Willow and Spike, then back to the object of his astoundment. "What's going on?"

There, standing in front of two tall red-robed beings, dressed in black leather pants, a black leather jacket, and a black halter top, was Faith. She merely smiled at Angel's question. "And interesting turn of events, it would seem." She made a kissing gesture towards Angel. "Hello, lover." Angel made no reply, glancing between her and the omnious company she'd brought. Faith smirked. "What, no kiss?"

Angel's eyes narrowed at her. "What are _they_ doing here?"

Faith looked back, pretending she didn't notice them. "Oh, them?" She looked back at Angel. "They're my new friends. Those Senior Partners you keep talking about."

Even Spike had to look up at that remark. He grabbed a sword, lunging for the trio. The being on the left raised it's hand, and Spike was sent flying back into the couch. Angel merely looked Faith over, his expression cold. "Why are you with them?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Faith took a couple of steps towards him, pulling down the left side of her top, revealing a circle of black thorns tattooed on her left breast. "The Mayor had me enrolled long before you decided to join the ranks." She saw Angel's fists clench and smiled. "Easy, tiger. The only reason you're alive is because of me. Because I've clued them in on a better use you can serve." She stepped a little closer to him, face centimeters from his. She whispered playfully. "I've come for your soul."

Angel stared at her. "What?"

"You're still a member of the Black Thorn, technically." Faith said, looking amused. "And who better to restart the Circle than a Slayer...and Angelus."

Angel stared darkly into her eyes. "I'll never.."

"You might want to wait before finishing that sentence." Faith said. "We can do this the hard way, where I bring in a shaman to take your soul," she retorted, rolling her eyes, "and this time it _won't_ be fake. Or we can do it the fun way." She grazed the inside of his thigh with her hand. "And I really hope you choose the fun way. 'Cause I really wanna make you scream my name." Faith leaned in closer, whispering into his ear. "I still care about you, you know. That's why I'm doing this. I'd rather see you soulless than dead. And at least this way, I get you all to myself."

Faith took a few steps back, smiling. "If you come into the deal willingly, then you have their solemn vow," she indicated the Senior Partners, "- written in blood, of course - that none of your friends will be harmed. Hell, they'll even be off limits to your alter ego. I'll give you some time to think it over."

Angel stepped closer to her, gazing icily down at her. His voice was quiet, but direct. "Get out before I kill you."

Faith's smile disappeared. "So much for the fun way." She looked back at the two beings behind her, then at Angel, and grinned. "We'll be in touch." With that, she and the two robed beings vanished in a flash of blue light.

Willow stared blankly for a moment at the spot where they used to be, then cast her worried look upon Angel. Angel stared at the spot too, feeling her look. "Find out what they are, and how I can kill them." Willow nodded, moving to the table where her laptop rested. She sat on the couch, immediately switching into research mode.

Spike looked Angel over. "No offense, mate...but we don't know how long we have until they do their mojo. Not that I wouldn't mind putting a stake through your heart, but I don't fancy Queen C in there beating the everloving hell out of me. Any idea on how to stop it?"

Angel looked over at Willow. "We kill them before they have a chance to start. So she'd better hurry up with the information."

Spike shook his head. "Angel, it's not that I don't admire your new take-no-prisoners, everything-must-die attitude...any other time, I'd encourage it. But you're talking about waging war against the darkness with darkness. Ever think that 'fight fire with fire' may not be the most plausible motto to follow? Correct me if I'm wrong, mate...but water usually does the best job of fighting fires."

Angel glanced over at him. "_You're_ being the voice of reason?"

"Scares me too, I know." Spike looked up at him, a hint of concern showing. "There's an old saying...he who fights monsters must be careful not to be come a monster himself.."

"...when you gaze long into the Abyss, the Abyss will gaze back into you." Angel finished the quote. "Friedrich Nietzsche."

Spike looked down for a moment, then looked to Willow. "If she gets what we need in time...we're going to go for them. But what if she doesn't?"

Angel picked up his sword off the table. "Then we go anyway, do what we can to stop it." He looked at Spike, his face serious. "If they succeed, you kill me before I hurt anyone."

"Okay." Spike said, matter-of-factly, going and retrieving his own sword off the floor.

Angel stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "You could _act_ like you're not eager to kill me."

"Oh." Spike thought for a moment, then pretended to cry. "But Angel, you're the only source of good in this world! I couldn't do such a thing...to rob this existance of such a magnificent being? Oh, the shame of it...I'd have to put a stake through my own heart after committing such a damnable act..." His face straightened. "How was that? Too over the top?"

"I got it..." Willow said quietly, smiling, then saying it again excitedly. "I got it!"

"Already?" Angel asked.

"It wasn't that hard," Willow said, typing a few more keys. "They're on the Members Only section of the Wolfram & Hart website." She scrolled through the information. "It says here that they are Diabanor demons. I'll just cross-reference this with the Codex downloaded on my laptop." A few more keystrokes, then she put her finger on the screen. "Right here. Says they're a very ancient race, back before the Old Ones even. Very powerful. Put here by HIM to watch over his earthly domain."

"Him?" Spike asked, leaning down to read. "Him who?"

"_Him_." Angel said. "The One. The First."

"It says The First endowed the demons with the power to release the inner demons and torment of one's mind...all one needed to do was look at their face, and their agony was revealed...and was the source of their destruction." Willow said, casting a concerned look at Angel.

"Can't be that powerful." Spike said, standing up fully. "There's only two left."

"There's always been two." Willow said, reading more of the text. "No mortal man has ever borne witness to their guises and lived to tell about it."

"We're not mortal men, are we, cupcake?" Spike said, smirking.

Angel looked down at Willow. "They need a place to meet, another Wolfram & Hart building. There one nearby?"

Willow shrugged. "No more here in San Diego." Her eyes widened and a smile slowly formed as she remembered. "There's one in San Francisco."

"I'm going, too." They looked back, seeing Cordelia in the doorway. Apparently, she'd found Willow's closet, finding jeans and a blue T-shirt suitable for the time being. She put on her resolve face. "I'm not letting you go alone."

Spike glanced at Angel. "They'll be expecting us, you know." He hefted his sword onto his shoulder, smiling. "Ready to fight some monsters?"

Angel put on his duster, grabbing his own sword and heading for the door, Spike and company following. "Bring on the Abyss."

-----

The lobby of Wolfram & Hart was brighty lit, making it seem as daylight despite the late hour. However, as Angel noticed as he entered with a sword in hand and a duffel bag in the other, no people were around. There wasn't a single human soul in sight. He scanned his surroundings, looking into offices, at staircases, towards elevators. No movement whatsoever. Spike entered behind him, his weapon of choice an axe, which he balanced on his shoulder, one hand on the handle. He furrowed his brow, noticing the absense of lawyers as well. Willow came in, armed with a crossbow, followed by Cordelia, who had a dagger tucked into the belt of her jeans just in case.

"Where's all the bloody people?" Spike asked, glancing from right to left.

"I don't like this..." Angel said. He caught a scent...but one that wasn't human. He looked up towards an office on the next level, the only one with the lights off. However, a strobing effect of yellow and blue light was occurring inside of it. He dropped the duffel bag, raising his sword, preparing for a fight. "Looks like we're not as alone as we thought."

"It might be a trap." Willow said, holding her crossbow up towards the flashing office.

"Of course it's a trap," Spike chimed it, looking over at the redheaded witch. "I thought you were from Sunnydale...?"

Angel made his way to the staircase, cautiously ascending. Spike followed, Cordelia staying close to the two. Willow brought up the rear, keeping watch behind them and her crossbow at the ready. Once at the top, Angel peered through the glass, making sure not to be seen. Inside were the two Senior Partners themselves. His eyes focused on the swirling ball of energy between them. The nucleus of it was recognizable to Angel as an Orb of Thesulah. But the energy whirling around it was slowly turning the glass ball black. It started at the core of the Orb, then slowly spread itself wider.

Angel looked back to the group, narrowing his eyes. "They're starting the ritual."

Willow let the crossbow hang by it's shoulder strap, then closed her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, they were black. Angel stared at her as she lifted her hands, palms toward the glass, and yelled, "Azarath metrion synthos!" The window shattered, and she quickly reached for her crossbow, sending a bolt flying towards the Orb. It burst into thousands of shimmering shards, the bodies of the Senior Partners turning towards them.

Spike held his axe at the ready, "There goes the element of surprise."

Willow shrugged, reloading her crossbow, her eyes normal. "Well, everyone else was just standing around..."

Angel and Spike hit the ground simultaneously, avoiding an energy ball sent rocketing towards them. They rolled, then got to their feet behind a wall, leaning back against it for cover. Angel looked to the women, only to see Faith approaching from behind them. "Willow! Behind you!"

Willow turned, but a quick forearm by the rogue Slayer sent the crossbow flying to the lobby floor. With speed Willow forgot a Slayer possessed, Faith punched the witch in the face, using her momentum to spin and backhand her as well. A hard kick to the stomach sent the redhead to the floor. Cordelia jumped on Faith's back, but Faith countered, flipping her over. Cordelia landed hard beside Willow, Faith quickly spotting the dagger in Cordelia's possession. She obtained it, glancing over at the vampires, who were held in their positions by a constant barrage of energy balls, which was slowly chipping the wall away. Faith held the dagger in the air menacingly, smirking at Cordelia. "Haven't got your strength back yet? Who's going to save you now?"

A hard fist with unmatched strength rocked Faith's jaw to the left, sending her to the floor as well. When she looked up, she didn't know what to make of what she saw. Hearing a commotion, Angel and Spike looked back over to the catfight. Both their jaws dropped.

"Bloody hell," Spike said, smiling. "It's the Smurf."

Cold eyes framed by tendrils of blue hair glanced down at the Slayer, who surveyed the godlike being known as Illyria with comtempt. She sneered. "Halloween come a little early this year?"

Illyria glared down at the insolent creature who dared defy her. A hand was quickly placed around Faith's throat, lifting her swiftly into the air. She tilted her head to the side a bit, observing the Slayer as she struggled. "You are not as powerful as I imagined you were by your tone." She threw Faith over the staircase, the Slayer hitting the lobby floor with a sickening thud. The Old One moved to Cordelia and Willow, lifting them both to their feet with ease. Being pulled by their arms hurt, but they decided it was better than being dead.

Willow squinted a little at Illyria. "Fred...?" she asked, unsure of her eyes.

"This is her shell." The statement was said as if Willow was ignorant for not knowing. She took the two in her arms, leaping powerfully into the air over the window. She landed behind Spike, setting the women down safely behind the wall, which wouldn't serve as a refuge for much longer. Illyria looked up at Angel, standing and leaning her sleek form against the wall, somewhat in imitation, between Angel and Spike. "You are a hard being to find."

Angel glanced down at her, smiling a little. "I've kept busy these last couple of days. Why were you looking for me so hard?"

"Handsome man," Illyria replied, her eyes turning hazel for a split second and a small smile coming to her face, "saved me from the monsters." Her face straightened, eyes went their normal-for-her skewed color. "I don't know anyone else on this world. I'd prefer to be in familiar company, inferior beings as they may be."

"I'll take that as a compliment, love." Spike retorted, looking to Angel. "How long we gonna sit here and _not_ kill things, mate? 'Cause these guys are pissing me off."

Just then, a bolt hit Cordelia in the arm. She screamed, slumping against the wall and sliding down, leaving a trail of blood. She clutched her wound, tears coming from the pain. Angel's head whirled around to see Faith, bleeding from a wound near her right temple, reloading Willow's crossbow, her eyes settling angrily on Illyria. "Let's see if that bitch over there bleeds blue."

Angel's hand clutched his sword in anger. He raised it, then sent it with all his strength towards the Slayer. It pierced her heart and before she could scream, she fell back onto the floor, dead.

Spike knelt by Cordelia, putting a hand on the bolt in Cordy's arm. "On the count of three, love. One..." Without more warning, he ripped it out, causing another scream then a slap across his face from Cordelia. He shook his head, the impact having rocked him a little. He tore a piece of of cloth off the bottom of his shirt, wrapping it tightly around her wound to stop the bleeding. When he turned, Angel had dashed across the hall, dodging energy blasts. He withdrew his sword from it's bloody plant in Faith's chest and took cover on the opposite wall. He caught Spike's eyes with his. Spike nodded, looking to Illyria. "Take care of the womenfolk, Blue." He sprinted across the window as well, but slipped on the puddle of blood beside Faith's body. He slid all the way to Angel's side. He got to his feet, looking at Angel. "What? I meant to do that."

Willow called out to the vampires. "Remove their cloaks...face your inner demons. It's the only way they can be defeated!"

"Easier said than done, lass." Spike replied, kicking the crossbow back over to Willow. "How about a little help?"

Seeing the blasts concentrated on the vampires, Willow's eyebrows furrowed. "Why aren't they shooting at us?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Because we're the defenseless womenfolk."

"That's awfully sexist of them...even for sinisterly evil masterminds of a globally run decadent law firm." Willow said, taking the crossbow and standing. She dove out in front of the window, facing the demons and sending a bolt towards one's head. Even as she did, she took an energy ball in the leg. Hitting the ground, she crawled a little towards Angel, whimpering from her wound. The bolt peeled back the shroud of one, but Willow couldn't see the demons from her position. Instead, she quickly reloaded, rolling over onto her back and sending another bolt at a light fixture on the ceiling. It crashed downwards onto the head of the other demon, knocking the hood off.

Willow looked back at Angel and Spike. "Now!" she yelled, making haste towards the cover of the wall. Angel and Spike stepped out in front of the window, viewing their adversaries fully. Any energy blasts sent their way dissipated, the forms of the demons covered in a dark energy as they began to manifest themselves into whatever nightmare laid in the minds of their viewers.

"There's your Abyss, mate." Spike said, glancing over at Angel. "For what it's worth, it's been a fun ride."

"Yeah," Angel replied, looking back at him. "I guess this is the part of the story where we break down and say how much we really care about each other deep down beneath all the snide remarks and the competition."

Spike thought for a moment, then looked back at the black, swirling vortexs of their enemies. "Nah. I'm not doing that."

Angel looked back as well. "Me neither."

What Angel looked at might as well have been a mirror, save for the fact that it was smirking back at him. His expression fell. "My God...no..." His fist tightened around his sword, and so did his doppelganger's. "Angelus."

What Spike looked at was a blonde twelve year old boy in a red sweater. His eyebrows went up. "My God...no..." He raised his axe. "It's that creepy kid from that bloody holiday movie."

Angel looked at him. "What?"

"You know," Spike said, tucking his axe under one arm and putting his hands to his face, pretending to scream. "That kid." He gripped his axe again, glaring at the child. "Sends chills up my bloody spine."

Angelus looked down at the child, then to Spike, smirking. "You've got a real dark side to you, don't you Blondie?"

Spike narrowed his eyes. "Angel? Be a dear and kill that ponce for me, will you?"

Angel nodded. "Gladly."

Angelus smiled, then he and the boy jumped over the small wall that the window used to sit on, running for their respective opponents. A clang of steel sounded as swords met, and a loud yell reverberated through the halls as the boy wrapped around Spike's leg and proceeded to bite. Spike began punching the boy's head furiously, but to no avail. "Someone get this bloody thing the hell off of me!"

Angelus grinned at Angel through the colliding swords. "Never do miss a chance to battle your alter-ego, do you? Still won't let go of the whole 'I'm-a-bad-boy-and-need-to-be-spanked' deal...it was over a century ago. Get over it!"

Angel glowered at his nemesis, bringing the sword at him again and again, each time countered. "What I did was wrong...it takes more than a few good deeds to atone for a lifetime of cruelty and blood."

Angelus sneered. "So why try?" Sword was brought toward Angel's neck, but was quickly stopped by sharp steel. Again, the swords clashed, until Angel had been backed against the railing. Angelus pinned him, grinning. "Face it. The demon's stronger than the man."

"And the demon in me needs killing, not the man." Angel kicked him away, sending Angelus stumbling. The monster just grinned, turning and clutching an unsuspecting Willow by the throat, holding her in front of him as a shield. Angel paused in his attack, making Angelus smile again. "Why is it a damsel in distress always pulls at your heart strings?" Willow tried to raise the crossbow, but couldn't. Angelus felt a tap on his shoulder and turned. He was swiftly met with a brass light fixture to the face. He was forced to release Willow and his sword as he stumbled back.

Cordelia Chase smiled. "Defenseless womenfolk, my ass."

Willow raised the crossbow, firing, planting a bolt in Angelus' stomach. He tottered back, face overwhelmed with anger. He ripped the bolt out, looking up. But all he saw was a sword being swung in his direction, level with his neck. His head toppled to the floor, quickly disintegrating into dust along with the rest of his body. Angel took a deep breath, smiling at the two women. He heard more yelling, turning to see Spike holding the boy down on the floor, swiftly punching the living daylights out of his face. Illyria just stood in front of him, head tilted in wonder.

Angel moved over to him, seeing Spike's nose and lip was bleeding. He smiled. "Having a little trouble with the kid?"

Spike stopped punching and looked at him. "To hell with you. The little bugger punches harder than you think." And just like that, a tiny fist hit Spike's jaw, his head rocked a bit. He glared back down at the boy. "Why you little..." He began punching the boy's face again.

"Spike. Spike!" The vampire looked up at Angel. "Just kill him already."

"Right." Spike whipped a stake out of his duster, holding it above his head. "Time to send you back to Hell." He planted it in the boy's heart, the boy vanishing in a black mist. Spike got to his feet, dusting himself off. "That was kinda anti-climactic, don't you think? I at least expected the building to cave in once they were dead. All metaphorical for the fall of an era and such."

Just then, the ground began to quake. Angel gave an exasperated look to Spike, then motioned to the others. "Run!"

The five warriors sprinted, Angel taking hold of Cordelia and leaping down to the lobby floor, Spike doing the same with Willow, Illyria managing on her own. Angel scooped up his bag, setting the timer on the explosive inside, then tossing it back. They quickly exited the building, dashing to Willow's car. They piled into it, Cordelia in the front passenger seat while the others squeezed into the backseat. Willow sped off, spinning tires as she started to put distance between them and Wolfram & Hart: San Francisco. Spike leaned towards the front seat. "Floor it, Red!"

"I _am_ flooring it!" Willow exclaimed, "It's a Hyundai Accent, not an Indy car."

Angel looked back and watched as the building crumbled down onto itself. He turned back around, sighing in relief. He glanced down, happening to see a manila envelope on the center console addressed to Willow - from Wesley Wyndam-Price. He tapped her shoulder and indicated the envelope. "What's that?"

Willow glanced down, then back at the road. "It's Wesley's affairs...his will. He sent them to me, figuring all of you would be gone after the L.A. incident."

Angel picked up the envelope, opening it and pulling out it's contents. Looking through the various papers, he spotted something familiar. "The deed to the Hyperion Hotel is in here."

Spike looked over at him. "We going back to L.A. then?" Spike's question made Cordelia look back.

Angel smiled. "Yeah. Let's go home."

Cordelia smacked Willow lightly on the arm. "Hey, there's an idea! Why don't you come along? We sure could need you around, and you're more than welcome."

Willow smiled a little. "Gee, I don't know.."

Angel leaned forward. "Don't worry. We'll pay you."

Willow grinned. "All right, I guess I'm in."

"Here, here." Spike said, smiling. "Here's to the new Angel Investigations."

Angel smiled. "Says the man who got taken by a little kid."

Spike grimaced, his eyes narrowing. "We can't all face poofs like your inner self. Dick."

"Sissy."

"Nancy boy."

"Child."

"Ponce."

Angel punched Spike in the face, and Spike reciprocated, all the while doing this across Illyria, who was sitting between them, staring in wide-eyed wonder. Cordelia looked back, slapping at the two of them. "Hey, hey! What the hell are you doing? We won, you idiots. Chill." Angel and Spike reluctantly agreed, settling back into their seats, still glaring at one another.

"There's still a fight to be fought." Angel said, looking out of the window. "Wherever evil still exists, we need to be there to fight it. Wherever danger to decency lurks, we need to be there to make it safe. Wherever someone suffers unjustly, we need to be there to help the helpless."

"And get paid a hefty sum charging them for it." Spike added.

"Here, here." Cordelia retorted smiling.

In the distance, a massive explosion leveled anything that remained of Wolfram & Hart in San Francisco, the Accent of Champions driving off into the horizon.

-----


End file.
